


Life Happens...And Then Some

by spacewritermonkey



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25632355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacewritermonkey/pseuds/spacewritermonkey
Summary: Life is what happens while you're busy making plans, between missions, demon hunting, toting an other-dimensional artifact on one's back, being part of a secret order, and trying to maintain that secret. These are the stories of what goes on in the in-betweens.
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva
Comments: 17
Kudos: 345





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Bear with me. This gets a bit long and winding. If the tones change, pardon as the course of writing this consists of various states of being. A fair bit of warning: this may be considered dark or heavy for some. I've tried to salvage the mood by editing, but I'm unsure. So please. Take care, folks. Maybe I'll see you again in another installment.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ladies encounter something all-too ordinary. But the ordinary is what seems to be the last straw that breaks Ava inside.

She heard it sung and played a few times before.

> _There are three things that last: faith, hope, and love  
>  And the greatest gift, is the gift of love_

She called bull. Love wasn’t enough for her mother to hold on to this life. Love wasn’t enough to heal her. Love wasn’t enough. Love wasn’t even something she really had at all.

Whatever people think they get off of those so-called _three things that last,_ life sucked enough to drain the fun and energy out of them. So no, they don’t last.

Life is not a bitch. Life is an asshole.

A bitch gets shit done. Life just fucks you up and leave you down on the ground if you’re not strong enough.

It’s hard, it’s crude, it’s harsh, and it does not favor anyone. One day life could hand you a basket of flowers, the next a sword with which to fall upon. Most like to call upon the darkness of night as cover for their sins, but nothing is as unforgiving as the sins cast upon the middle of the day. The blatant disregard for subterfuge. The outright violation of all that society decreed as sacred and holy.

And that is what she’s known for as long as she can remember.

Life is not what happens while you’re busy making plans.

Life is what happens throughout all the nooks and crannies. The dark alleys, the side streets, the rotten tunnels home to the underbelly of each and every thriving civilization.

It’s putrid. It’s dank. It’s hell.

She no longer remembers much of her life before the orphanage. All she really has at the forefront of her mind are the days spent in bed, wasting away with no one for company except for the television.

Such was her only means of seeing life outside her bed, outside the building walls.

And for every day she caught sight of the news, it seemed that nearly every opportunity presented to her contained nothing but chaos and destruction. Mad men driven to kill and be killed. Lives lost for countless campaigns and various agendas. The planet slowly being burned down to its dying core. People dying. Children wasting away. Old men engraving upon the tablet of history their so-called legacies, all of which have been prepared and prefabricated.

Lies, death, waste. So much waste.

It’s as if fate had imprisoned Ava not just in body but also in mind.

So, Ava chose the fantastical, the whimsical, the faux reality of existence.

She preferred the blank stares of beings made to act upon a man-made canvas. She opted to laugh and cry and feel to the tune of platitudes, clichés, and hollow promises written by people who would know the truth but would rather write to supply the demands of its starving audience.

In all honesty, Ava preferred the empty eyes of drones across a screen rather than the pain-filled ones and empty eyes hollowed by death and not by the cue of a media enterprise.

Ava was tired of the pain.

Which is ironic considering she couldn’t even feel anything beyond her neck down.

But Ava felt it all. And she couldn’t even try to physically rub the hurt away.

Perhaps that was why she wanted to truly run away when she first saw the chance provided by the halo. She wanted to see for herself if the pain existed only for her. Was it everywhere? Can she escape it? Are there people who could live without it? Despite of it? Is there really such a thing as hope, or promises to depend on when everything just seems like utter madness?

Her first few days and weeks as a literal walking miracle, Ava was astounded by the beauty around her. She almost didn’t think it was real. But it was—is.

Perhaps not everything was a lie. After all, demons and nuns chasing after her aside, people around her appear to be living and thriving. Their eyes were sparkling and…alive. They weren’t moving to just one beat. They weren’t talking out of some script.

And when Ava found her way back to the OCS and the rest of the nuns, the sisters’ way of thinking and looking at things sparked something in Ava. She wondered if that was what hope felt like.

They taught her things she never thought she’d learn or even want to learn.

They taught her about the basics of living—for herself and for others. Chores, lessons in various subjects, Ava wasn’t a big fan of reading really, but when they would read to her, their voice drew her in, and she’d listen.

Ava may not have been prepared to give into organized religion, but she was ready to accept that perhaps her perception of life as portrayed by a box was a dream and not as grounded in reality as she was led to believe. There is more to life, Beatrice says so. And Ava listens to Beatrice.

Listening is a skill Ava has mastered. Years of being bound in bed taught herto listen very well when she wanted to, and drown out everything but the sound she was looking for when she didn’t. She remembers blocking out the words that Sister Frances loved to repeat to her on a daily basis.

Until one day, something jarred the vulnerable foundation with which Ava was just beginning to reestablish her newfound thoughts and beliefs.

* * *

The day had started so splendidly. They had spent the morning in the market. It was supposedly a two-person job, but they decided to make a day out of it, and all went together. Lilith and Mary were debating the merits of buying a lovely knife that had a vintage touch to it based on the quality and wear of its hilt. The owner looked baffled given their outfits but struggled to keep the smile on his face. In another stall, Ava knew its owner was fighting a losing battle in even attempting to haggle with Beatrice and Camila. Between Camila’s puppy eyes and Beatrice’s sharp mind, he was a goner.

In less time than expected, Mary was slamming the doors to the van shut after checking that everything on their list have been acquired.

It was then that Lilith suggested that perhaps they can have lunch at one of the restaurants nearby. Ava could see that everyone was very much into the idea and personally, she would be the last to complain and say otherwise. Ava looked over at Beatrice and saw her smile. She always thought Beatrice really looked pretty whenever she smiled—especially when her eyes smiled along with her. The subject of her thoughts glanced back at her and Ava had no idea why, but her smile grew further and so did hers in response.

They were seated in a table outside, a bit further away from the more populated area in case anything in their conversation was decidedly not meant for public consumption. Which was a fair enough idea as Lilith was studious in sharing every detail about her dreams as of late that stumped them all if they were either memories or visions. She hadn’t even been close to finishing her food.

And that’s when it happened.

A loud commotion across the road drew their attention. Shouts and incoherent voices littered the air at first, but as it was their nature to help—though Ava’s were more recently acquired—they were in front of the crowd just in time to see a man holding a woman with an arm around her neck, gun to her head. Right before they saw him pull the trigger, Ava could swear she saw a child crying for their mother in her periphery.

The gun had already gone off when people descended upon the shooter.

When the memory of the gunshot finally tapered off from Ava’s senses, with the echo of the gun going off, the gunpowder she could swear she could taste, the ripple of the air as the bullet traveled from the muzzle through layers of bone and muscle tissue, the sight of a body crumpling to the ground…Ava heard someone calling her name. She turned to see Beatrice with an unreadable expression on her face with a slight hint of concern which Ava belatedly realized was for her.

No words.

Everyone was silent as they made their way back home.

* * *

And so here she now sits atop a roof, staring at the huge expanse of landscape before her. Ava always took her time to admire the scene and always took pleasure from the knowledge that she’s here and able to see it whenever she wanted.

But now…

Funny how just months before, Ava would have given anything to feel.

Now she wishes she could turn it off. All of it.

How can she feel _so much_ that the feeling burns?

She stares at nothing and wonders _what now_?

“Ava.”

If she could, she would smile as Beatrice’s presence always does that. But Ava feels too tired to even acknowledge the nun. She can feel the other woman settling beside her, close enough to feel the warmth being exuded by her presence, but not too close to feel stifled or feel the texture of Beatrice’s uniform.

Silence. She appreciates that about Beatrice. For as long—or as short—as they’ve known each other, Ava knows she can count on Beatrice to patiently wait for her to say something. She can only hope that she is able to provide even a semblance of comfort to Beatrice with her own presence. Even if a part of Ava is wont to question being able to do anything at all for Beatrice who seems perfectly capable of everything.

“You okay?” It’s unusual for Beatrice to be the first to break the silence and Ava wonders what has warranted the deviation from their norm.

Nonetheless, Ava debates what to answer and settles for the truth. “No.”

A few seconds pass before Beatrice proceeds, “The dinner bell rang, and we were surprised not to find you at our table.”

Only then does Ava realize how long she’s been seating in the same spot.

She lowers her head and finds herself still feeling morose despite Beatrice’s words. _Our_. Normally, Ava would be pleased at the remembrance of how times have changed for her. She actually has people who care when she goes missing. And when she has deviated from her pattern, someone tries and goes looking for her, much like Beatrice did. She shares meals with the same group of people at the same table often enough to subtly lay claim to it. She almost chuckles at the remembrance of how Camila so fiercely warned off a few others with a look one time during lunch. Lilith actually patted her on the head like a dog and still Camila simply beamed at the quiet praise.

“Have you been here since we returned from the market?” Beatrice asks.

If Ava would turn to her side, she would find that Beatrice can no longer mask her concern at how quiet the normally effusive girl is.

She responds with a slight nod.

“Ava…” This time, the note of concern penetrates through the fog in Ava’s mind, much like the hand on top of hers registers through her skin.

She can at least feel that.

“What is wrong?”

Still, Ava remains quiet.

* * *

To be honest, Beatrice has been concerned even before they arrived back at Cat’s Cradle. Ava was a lot of things, but never quiet. A part of Beatrice that has read enough references would hypothesize that Ava’s penchant for chatter could be attributed to the years she spent in solitude. For so long, Ava only had her voice to rely on to let herself be known or noticed. Beatrice has long observed that even Lilith’s snarkier or mean response to Ava’s consistent and much often rambling sparked something in her eyes. As if the words or context didn’t matter as much as the acknowledgment that someone heard Ava and was responding existence.

Over dinner, all four had been quiet, surreptitiously sending looks over at the vacant seat where Ava should have been. Ava rarely missed a meal. In fact, it was the only time the halo bearer was on time for _anything_. Lilith liked to joke how Ava was the poster child for Pavlov’s dog whenever the bell rung for meals. Unfortunately, the mess at the garden after the first time she aired that joke wasn’t as funny.

Camila expressed that Ava surely must be hungry by now and worried if she’d eaten anything. Mary grumbled, trying perhaps to lighten the mood, how she will push her off of a cliff again if it turns out Ava was simply too busy spreading chaos somewhere else. Beatrice was simply worried. They had been growing closer, she knew. And in the process of learning more things about each other, Beatrice understood that there was a depth to Ava that was often easily overlooked considering how adept their Warrior Nun was at keeping people at a distance with her acerbic humor and crass vocabulary. They were both adept at building walls. Beatrice’s were just a tad more obvious with her quiet and calm veneer. But Ava understood her.

And whatever it was that had kept Ava from joining them tonight, Beatrice wanted to know. She wanted to help. She wanted to be there for her much like how Ava insisted and persisted on being there for her.

Having quickly polished off her plate, Beatrice made it known she will go off to look for their errant team member. Perhaps considering how the current situation made them uneasy, Lilith offering to set a plate aside for Ava would normally have made them gape in shock, instead Beatrice simply smiled to show her appreciation. Mary and Camila offered to do the same and all agreed to update each other if they succeed.

She had looked nearly everywhere she knew Ava liked to hide when trying to avoid numerous things: chores, lessons, punishment, Lilith. She knew there was the room behind Ava’s bedroom wall. Beatrice had checked but saw no sign of Ava having done so. They both had agreed that Ava will leave a sign in case she ever went in there alone. The agreement came to be when Ava once thought it would be a good idea to take a nap in it so as to be undisturbed. There was a bit of chaos involved when she finally emerged all sleepy eyed and complaining about why there were so many people in her room.

It took three people to restrain Mary from using her gun.

Beatrice was beginning to fear two things: Ava forgetting to leave proper notice and escaping to her hidden room, or Ava actually having left Cat’s Cradle. Beatrice knew Ava better than to leave without notice or run away like she used to, which left a third option that she didn’t even want to consider at this point. Not without further proof.

Thankfully, before Beatrice could fully give in to some of the panic bubbling within her, she passed by one of the windows with a wide enough ledge hanging outside of it. She remembered Ava disclosing its location as one of her favorite spots in all of Cat’s Cradle.

* * *

So here they are seated on a roof, side by side. Ava’s bare arms wrapped around her knees as she stares at something before her: something only she could see, Beatrice suspects. Her hands unconsciously grapple at the roof’s clay tiles in frustration, wondering how to help the woman beside her. The woman who was obviously suffering from something.

“When I was almost ten or so, I think, Sister Frances told me they found my family.” Beatrice nearly startles at Ava’s voice; it is low, pained, and somewhat hoarse, as if unused to the hours of inactivity. She is also taken aback at the knowledge. From Father Vincent’s first investigation into her files at the orphanage, no one was listed as her next of kin. No family was found, it said.

Before Beatrice could even think of asking, Ava continues. “Sister Frances was blunt enough to tell me that the embassy found relatives back in the states. A distant aunt of my mother, they said. Plus, a cousin or two. The cousins were sympathetic but uninterested. They were just starting their own families and could not afford to take on another child. The aunt was almost sold on the idea until they learned what I was: broken and useless.”

Beatrice is tempted to cut in and protest vehemently how Ava is far from being any of those words, but she knows Ava isn’t done. So, she does the next best thing: she listens.

“I don’t know if Sister Frances is even capable of smiling or looking happy, but I’m pretty sure she came close to it when she told me that no one wanted me. When I came into the orphanage, I didn’t feel anything aside from the pain in my head and my chest. I told the visiting doctor who checked up on me and he said that was impossible. I was basically dead from my neck downwards. I was fucking seven and he couldn’t even properly explain it to me. He just looked at me strangely and said the pain in my chest was all in my head. It was only years later when I realized the pain I felt then was in my heart.”

Ava laughs sardonically as she seems to curl up tighter within herself, continuing to share a part of herself no one has heard or learned before.

“I spent my first few months in that place crying and calling out for my mom. At first Sister Bitch and the others would come in and try to get me to quiet down. Frances would mock me for crying. She’d rub my cheeks raw pretending it was to wipe away my tears and tell me how I should at least keep it quiet so as not to disturb others and to stop making the other nuns like herself tend to me so frequently when there were so many other things they should be paying attention to. Fair enough, after some time…no one came when I cried. They had created a schedule for when they needed to tend to me.”

Beatrice continues to sit beside her quietly. But if Ava would turn and look the other girl, she’d notice that the nun’s fingers had almost clawed into the tiles beneath them. Ava would have also seen the growing hardness and anger in her eyes as Ava’s story continued to unfold.

“From then on, I swore I would never give them the pleasure of seeing or hearing me cry. And when she broke that news to me, I just knew she was waiting for me to cry, but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of even shedding a tear. I hung in there until days later when I knew she’d be out for at least two days. Then I cried overnight with just enough time to let the tears and all its proof dry out so no one would know the next morning.”

Ava scoffs and shakes her head slightly as if trying to rid herself of being in that moment once more.

“I learned to accept ignoring others just as I learned how it was to be ignored. I lived inside my head for the most part because at least in it I could be whatever I wanted, be wherever I wanted. But since I was a kid who had yet to see or really remember anything, I didn’t exactly have a lot of material to work with. That’s why TV became my friend. But even that piece of shit was hard and unyielding in telling me how ugly life could be. Most of the time during the day its default channel showed mostly news. And the stories they reported made me retreat back inside my head where I could mold things into what I wanted. I think it was only when Diego arrived that I got to see the more pleasant and truly entertaining side to TV programming. Sometimes, the stories weren’t all too different from reality, but at least I could look at a bloody scene and remind myself it’s staged. News is just fucked up. Before, they’d pixelate the gory shit, but lately it seems as if the bloodier the coverage is, the better.”

Ava takes a deep breath, finally noticing that the sun has set, and darkness is beginning to creep in.

“When I learned about the OCS, about wraiths, about evil…I thought it could explain all the…misery and pain that humans inflict on others. We’ve been battling these things for awhile now and even when I sometimes question when it will end, or what happens when it does…this thing we’re on… It’s actually given me hope. Sure, it seems futile at times, but at least we’re doing something. Something to make the world _better_.”

Ava finally turns to face Beatrice, “When I confronted Sister Frances that night, I didn’t see any wraiths or anything that hinted at possession. And when that man this afternoon shot the woman in his arms, in the head, there were no wraiths either. No possession. No other force at work. _They_ did that, Beatrice. They did all that on their own. No one told them to do that—to inflict pain on others! They did that because they _wanted_ to. How could someone _want_ to do that? How could they?? And why?!”

Tears are running freely down Ava’s face and Beatrice can no longer hold herself back.

She reaches out and wraps her arms around Ava, drawing her close and as close as she can get. She can feel the younger woman lean her whole weight against her as she cried heart-wrenching sobs. Beatrice wonders if Ava had ever allowed herself this release since that incident she shared.

Slowly, Ava turns and wraps her arms around Beatrice in return as she continues to sob, finally letting out everything that had built up inside her for years.

Beatrice has never wished for something so irrational as much as she did right then, wishing she could take the pain away from Ava. She can feel her own tears falling yet unable to wipe them away in her inability to release Ava from her grasp.

“I’m here,” Beatrice whispers and brushes her lips against the crown of Ava’s head, continuing to murmur words of comfort, mostly made up of assurances to the girl in her arms. “I promise you, Ava, you aren’t alone. If you cry, I’ll come running. If you call for me, I’ll be there. Even if by some force or reason time and distance separates us, I’ll do everything humanly possible to come back to you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ava cannot and will not stand idly by. Except, would she be able to handle the outcome?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this needs fair warning of suicide attempt.

It’s another successful mission for the books. Wraiths defeated, the few possessed weren’t knocked around too badly, and they were going home after just a few hours in the field. If Beatrice restrain herself from driving like a grandma, maybe they can catch the season finale of The Bachelorette.

“That’s another point for Team Halo!” Ava exclaims with a fist pump to the air and a slight jump to boot. Camila smiles widely at her in agreement, noting one notable difference from some of their usual missions. “Not to mention Ava hasn’t ended up incurring any tear, scorch marks, or holes in her outfit.”

Lilith snickers at Ava’s affronted look. “You guys make it sound like I purposely go around making a mess of my clothes.”

“Of course not. What it sounds like is you still haven’t trained properly enough to avoid getting stabbed, burned, shot at, or thrown around like a ragdoll.” Mary throws in.

“Okay I get it. Train more. Jeez, I haven’t been slacking off these past couple of weeks at all if you must know.” Ava crosses her arms defensively. Beatrice nods to appease the Halo Bearer, “Yes. And we know it and appreciate it, don’t we?” She sends a look to all three, who exchange looks of their own before smiling to show Ava it was harmless teasing.

“Thank you, Beatrice.” Ava smiles sweetly at the woman walking right beside her.

“Do you think we have time to grab a bite on the way home? I’m starving,” Mary complains, stowing some of their item in the back of the van. Ava had just climbed in when a bag nearly clips her head and she throws the offender a glare. “I thought there was enough head space for the bag to fly over your head,” Lilith shrugs with a smirk.

“Height jokes, Lilith? Keep that up and I’ll compliment you to death.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Lilith scoffs.

Ava’s smile turns feral as she leans over, squeezing her body just so between the two seats up front in order to get up close to Lilith’s face as she says, “Anyone ever tell you your cheekbones are so fine? Like I think it can cut diamonds?”

Lilith blinks a few times in complete silence, as if trying to weigh Ava’s words and their meaning, including a possible reason for why the halo bearer’s proximity seems to have cut off her breathing.

Grinning at the uncharacteristic response, Ava adds, “Has anyone ever told you how _hot_ you look…” and slowly leans in just a tad further to whisper “…back when your hair didn’t look like a wig?”

A street sweeper jumps in alarm when he hears a loud yell followed by the sound of a heavy weight crashing against something. Looking up, he realizes soon enough that in front of him is a parked vehicle, with what seems to be a figure of a woman having ended up face first against the inside of the van’s rear window. He is about to approach and ask if the woman is okay, until he realizes that said woman has charged back towards the front and her other fellow female companions are now part of the fray—all within the van.

* * *

They haven’t even left the town proper when Ava feels their van hit the brakes just a little too hard.

Or rather, her face feels the effect given Ava ends up with said face against the seat in front of her. “Mary you sick fuck! Watch the brakes!”

“First of all, language. Second, may I state for the record that _I_ offered to drive as it is technically my turn.” Beatrice states in a factual manner.

“Jeezus, Bea. This isn’t court.” Ava rolls her eyes, although she falls right back into her standard grin—much as she is prone to do whenever looking at that lovely face.

“We also want to get home in time to see the last episode of _The Bachelorette_ , Bea.” Camila smiles sheepishly and apologetically at her mentor.

Ava squeals at the reminder and shares a giggle with Camila right before Lilith throws a pouch at Ava’s head.

“Hey!”

“Lilith!” Beatrice barks in an uncharacteristic, raised voice.

“You do know I can just phase out of these bonds, right?” Ava motions towards the ropes wrapped around her.

“Ava, please stop taunting Lilith.” Camila pleads with the Warrior Nun as Beatrice tries not to roll her eyes for the umpteenth time.

“Would you guys shut up! Something’s happening.” Mary gestures with her hand at something going on up front, where people appear to have congregated around the front of a building.

“What’s going on?” Camila whispers worriedly.

“Perhaps we should check in case this is something under our purview.” Beatrice’s words hold the obvious concern that wraith possession might still be at play considering the mission they just completed not too far from their current location.

As Mary pulls aside to park the car, Ava spots the probable cause of the commotion.

“Uh guys?” All four glance at Ava, who finally realizes she has been freed from her restraints and points forward and upwards. The rest of the team follow the direction of where she’s pointing, and finally realize the silhouette of a man standing on the edge of a rooftop.

* * *

The building is hardly more than a three-story walk-up apartment structure, with a rooftop meant as a common area for its tenants. When the team makes their way out to the front of the crowd, there are two members of local law enforcement trying to control the onlookers. All four subtly look towards Ava, waiting for her cue that there is more than meets the eye. After a few seconds of observing their surroundings, Ava shakes her head.

Mary nods “Okay then. Let’s go.” She turns to leave while the rest automatically follow while Ava flounders for a beat before struggling to catch up to her friends. “Wait, wait. We’re leaving? Just like that?”

Lilith surreptitiously checks their surroundings before responding, “You just said there were no wraiths involved. Therefore, it’s not our responsibility. The police are here, they’ll take of things.”

Right after Lilith says this, a loud collective mix of cry and gasp from the gathered people capture the team’s attention as the man stepped off the low wall surrounding the rooftop, and onto the barely wide enough ledge. His foot had nearly slipped once, which is what elicited the cry from onlookers.

Beatrice notes the stubborn look on Ava’s face, a look that registers on everyone else just a moment too late before the halo bearer darts away and is running back towards the scene.

“Ava!”

Having worked long enough together to know and anticipate their champion’s way of thinking and pattern, Beatrice leads the way in heading to the side of the building, anticipating that Ava will not waste time trying to talk to anyone to allow them entry. Right as Beatrice rounds the corner, she sees Ava phase through the door, the sound of the Warrior Nun’s name on her lips just a bit too late it nearly translates to a bitter aftertaste brought about by her growing apprehension of the situation.

“Did she go through?” Camila asks as they catch up with Beatrice, stopping right outside the door.

Without a word, Beatrice simply nods and grasps the door’s handle, a silent prayer offered above in hopes that Ava didn’t forget. When the door unlatches and opens without complaint, a collective sigh of relief erupts from all four before they begin hurriedly move in order to track down their wayward halo bearer.

“The roof” is all that Lilith says before she turns towards the closest stairwell and begins to lead the way.

Soon enough they are on the last flight of stairs before Lilith stops and shows them the unconscious form of a man in a police uniform. “Jesus,” Mary mutters under her breath.

They quietly and carefully emerge one by one onto the roof, immediately spotting their missing member who is approaching the lowly raised wall currently serving as meager barrier between clay tiles and an approximate 35-foot drop.

Beatrice hastens her footsteps, grabbing Ava by the forearm right as a man’s voice shouts, “Who’s there?!”

Ava locks gazes with Beatrice, the shorter woman’s eyes imploring for something the latter cannot fully understand, until Ava opens her mouth to respond.

“My name’s Ava.”

A second of silence passes before the voice contemplates asking another question. “Are you the police? Because I’m done talking! I don’t need the police and I just want to be left alone!”

Ava carefully disengages her forearm from Beatrice’s grasp, slowly taking her gaze away from the other woman to make her way closer to the edge. Ava deliberately yet cautiously stretches her upper half across the top expanse of the wall, bracing her forearms to counter her weight from accidentally pulling her off the roof. She cranes her neck a bit farther, hoping to see the man, before feeling a tug at her waist. Checking to see what was going on behind her, she realizes Beatrice has a tight grip on her belt. Shooting a quick reassuring and at the same time grateful smile at the woman, Ava returns her gaze over to check on the man.

When she catches sight of him, the Warrior Nun realizes that he is still relatively young. Perhaps a few years older than JC if she were to make a comparison. Ava immediately pulls back from the wall, thankfully remembering that she cannot startle the man lest he make a mistake and plummet to this death. She then takes a deep breath before speaking, “I’m not the police. Do you mind if I ask for your name?”

Another beat passes before he replies, “My name’s Javier. Why do you ask?”

“I’m coming closer, okay?”

“No!” Javier shouts before Ava can even take another step.

“Look, I don’t care who you are just leave me alone!”

“Ava.” Beatrice’s voice is low and soft, but either the wind must have carried her voice farther towards the man’s direction or his hearing is simply outstanding, “Who’s there? Is someone else there with you??!”

Beatrice observes that the man’s voice holds more of outrage than panic. She fears that this could mean that Javier may have already decided on how this whole thing will end. She worries that despite Ava’s hopes of helping or saving him, he will not allow it.

“I’m with my friend Beatrice.” Ava speaks up.

“What happened to the police who kept talking?”

“I think the guys downstairs are looking for the sleeping man, Ava.” Mary shouts, having just returned from peeking over the stairwell. There’s a quick huddle among Lilith, Mary, and Camila and the next thing Beatrice sees is the door being shut close and Lilith using her powers to mangle the lock.

Mary stares at the broken fixture and looks up at Lilith. “I was thinking we could just put our weight against the damn thing, but broken lock works just fine.”

“You think our combined weight plus Heidi here would have been enough?”

Camila’s eyes widen and suddenly Lilith is the recipient of her shiny eyes, “That’s not fair.”

Immediately, Lilith’s smirk turns into a repentant expression as she bends her knees slightly to level with Camila’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” is all she gets to say before Mary shoves her away. “She’s not a toddler you have to bend your goddamn fucking knees for, Lilith.” Mary then turns to Camila. “She didn’t mean that. She’s sorry.”

“What the hell—lady, how many of you are out there?!”

“Actually, there’s like five of us up here right now.”

“You couldn’t wait for me to finish my business before bringing your friends over for a party?”

“No. I saw you and I just wanted to help.”

“So aside from thinking you could actually be of use, you needed cheerleaders too?” The snark is not lost on Ava.

“No. They followed me here.”

The silence lasts much longer than a moment or two and a part of the Warrior Nun half expects to hear the crowd’s reaction of Javier just taking the leap.

“You got good friends?” The question takes her by surprise, but judging by the look on Beatrice’s face, Ava rolls with it.

“Yes. Best ones.” Ava smiles at Beatrice before shifting her gaze onto Mary, Camila, and Lilith—who rolls her eyes and prompts Ava to begin to flip her off, except her hand is immediately swatted downwards by Beatrice.

“You hang on to them, Ava. It sucks to be alone.”

“Is that why you’re here? Because you think you’re alone?”

A sardonic laugh erupts from beyond the wall, and the hollow ring of the sound plucks a familiar string within Beatrice.

“I don’t think it. I know it. There’s no saving me, Ava. This is the end of the line for me.”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve thought of this.” Beatrice lightly stuns Ava by cutting in.

“And who the hell are you?”

“My name is Beatrice, Javier.” Ava tosses a questioning gaze at the other woman.

“Ah. Asking questions because you think you and I share something similar?”

“I don’t think it. I know it.” Beatrice’s confident response draws a chuckle from the man.

They are momentarily distracted by the sound of people from behind the door, obviously trying to figure out what happened. “Whoever is out there, open this door immediately!”

The entire team exchange looks before Camila moves closer towards Beatrice and Ava while vaguely motioning for Lilith and Mary to follow. “Maybe we should just let them out here.”

Mary shakes her head, “And then what? We’re just going to raise more questions and suspicions about what we’re doing here.”

“We happened upon this place by accident?” Ava tries.

“All the way down from where our car is parked?” Lilith shoots back.

“Look the priority here is Javier. That’s why we’re here, aren’t we?” Beatrice states.

“Why not stick with Javier’s assumption we were just looking for a nice spot to crash for party?”

“In these outfits?” Mary motions towards their current getup.

“What’s going on?” Javier’s voice pipes up.

Beatrice looks at Camila, Mary, and Lilith. “Do as you see fit. Ava and I will see to Javier.”

Mary rolls her eyes as they move back closer to the door where the sound of fists pounding is still ongoing.

“Why the fuck do they do that? I mean pounding like—is it really just going to magically pop the goddamn door open?” She motions towards where the doorknob used to be. “Go on, Lilith. Do your thing—HOLD YOUR HORSES we’re trying to open the door!” Mary addresses the latter to the likely men in uniform just waiting.

Lilith stares blankly at Mary. “What do you want me to do?”

“Well you jimmied it to lock ‘em out. Now fix it to let ‘em back in.”

“Do I look like a locksmith?” Lilith holds up her hand where her nails transform to claw-like length.

“Excuse me.” Camila gently pushes both women aside as she takes out a multi-tool from her pocket and starts unscrewing things. She also calls out to the men on the other side to “please hold.”

“Javier, what changed that made you think it all ends today?”

Ava watches as Beatrice gently nudges her aside, choosing to lean back against the wall, hands tucked behind her back: the epitome of calm amidst all chaos. From her periphery, Ava detects movement and turns to see at least three men in police uniform spill onto the roof where Mary is trying to hold them back and explain at the same time.

“Well, Beatrice. You ever like somebody so much that it hurts when you contemplate the mere idea that they won’t ever like you back?”

Ava finds that her focus is now solely on the woman in front of her, in the hopes of cataloging her every reaction and tucking every word that should pass her lips.

“Yes. You try not to, but you begin to hope despite your most fervent wish not to. You know there is a high probability that they’ll never see you the way you see them. That surely, these feelings are unrequited.”

“But a part of you clings to that shred of hope anyway.” Javier continues.

Beatrice turns to look up at the clear sky, as if she’s calling upon the sun to dry the memories of tears shed long before.

“The best and worst part is…you don’t just like them. You love them.” With her face still upturned to the sky, Ava watches as that smile she thought was for her alone, transforms Beatrice into this being that Ava feels she can’t ever touch. Can never have.

And something inside Ava breaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been experimenting with some things so my writing is out of wack. I hope this made sense. I've been trying to push personal boundaries and limits and this is the byproduct. Hopefully the next one's a whole lot better. Take care, folks.


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